


Crutches

by squash1



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Kieren's a mess as per usual, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squash1/pseuds/squash1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t surprise you that, even now that he’s come alive again, he doesn’t sleep much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crutches

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my attempt at an In The Flesh one shot. It's unbeta'd since it's just for practice and nothing too serious. I hope you'll find it at least somewhat entertaining.

The alarm clock on the nightstand reads “2:34“ in screaming red letters when you wake that night. You turn to face away from the agonisingly bright light, only to find the other half of the bed cold and empty. It doesn’t surprise you that even now that he’s come alive again, he doesn’t sleep much. Still, it is highly unusual for your lover to leave your bed in the middle of the night. 

You notice the faint glow of light that merges underneath the bedroom door, and closing your eyes for a quick moment, you debate whether or not to get up and seek out your boyfriend. You know he isn’t well, and whilst you refrain from thinking that showing him love and affection would lessen the pain within your incredible boy, you can’t help but wish he would at least talk about it. You’ve given up trying to initate that particular conversation, however; he seemingly isn’t up to it and the last thing you want is to push him out of his comfort zone. 

Eventually, you do decide to get up and check on him. Your stiff legs carry you down the hall and toward the living room of the bungalow. Coming to a halt in the doorway, you look around and find him sitting in the big armchair by the window that the two of you don’t seldomly share. He’s hugging his knees tight to his chest and you notice his stare out onto the dimly lit street to be almost longing. 

Thoroughly invested in whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t take notice of your presence until you speak up.

“Kieren,“ you voice in a calm manner, attracting his attention. Dark eyes meet yours, the light in them having noticeably lessened over the past few weeks.

“Hey, Si,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper, and you feel like punching something, “Sorry for waking you. I couldn’t sleep.”

He’s changed his position, now sitting crosslegged in the massive arm chair, biting the sleeve of his sweater. It’s a nervous habit, or so you’ve noticed in the past. You’re tempted to tell him to stop, but when he reaches his other arm out towards you, you almost feel your cold dead heart break a little. 

“What’s keeping you up?” you ask, even though you know exactly what’s troubling him. A step closer is all it takes for him to be able to grasp at the hem of the old t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in, pulling you closer so your knee hits the armrest of the chair. 

For a moment, you’re unsure what he wants. A warm embrace and a kiss? His favourite poem recited? Again? You know that always soothes his soul, but this time you’re unsure what it is that he’s demanding. Still, you’re keen on keeping your promise to do anything you can to give it to him, thusly taking his outstreched hand and loosening the tight fist he’s formed around the fabric of your shirt to intertwine your cold fingers with his. 

He’s looking at you now, and you want to bash your rotten head against concrete for the thoughts that enter your mind. You tell yourself that you can’t help it, that he’s just too beautiful, but it doesn’t ease your mind much. 

Sooner than you know it, you’re on top of him, straddling his lap, and his hands are in your hair. He’s kissing you as though your tongue can lap up all the sorrow from his insides and you don’t waste a single thought on trying to stop him. If this is what he wants, you’ll gladly give it to him. 

This isn’t anything new, you’ve done this before. You take him inside of you easily, and he’s sobbing. Deep down you know that this isn’t about pleasure or passion or any of those things. It’s about finding solace, about being as close to you as physically possible. He knows you can’t feel a thing, and you don’t really care as long as you can give him what he wants, what he needs. 

-

When he finishes, you’re left with nothing but a shaking mess underneath your cold body. You kiss his damp hair before getting up and lifting him out of his seat. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises as you carry his light frame to the bathroom, “We should’ve waited all along. I want you to feel it, too.”

You sit him down in the edge of the bath and start running it with water. He’s biting his lip, frowning.

“Don’t you worry about that right now, love,” you answer, “I understand.”

“Okay,” he sighs, slowly slipping into the water. 

The look he gives you when you don’t immediately make to follow cuts deep, and he whines a little, sulking. Knowing you can’t resist his pleading doe eyes for long, you usher him to make some room before seating yourself so you’re facing his back. You grab him by the waist to pull him closer and press your icy lips against the back of his neck. 

He shudders, then pauses for a moment and says, “Thank you,” before leaning to rest his head on your shoulder as you start lathering his skin. 

The two of you will be okay, eventually. You won’t be able to rid him off his demons, but you’ll do anything in your power to make this journey as safe as possible for him. You’re going to be his crutch all throughout his personal hell, and you know that he’ll be yours as well. In the end, all you need is each other, and time.


End file.
